Rose
by Sanura Bey
Summary: Rose, Trever Broom's oldest and closest friend and the mother figure for Hellboy, has only ever loved one person in her very long life. She was there when Hellboy first came to this world and is now helping him in his most trying times. Starts in the first Hellboy movie and moves onto the Golden Army
1. The Beginning

In a photographic darkroom, old optical enlargers, porcelain trays, timers, and stills were hanging out to dry. A slightly obese, nearsighted man in his seventies, George Matlin, was doing an interview on a very touchy government secret.

"Is he real?" George asked his interviewer. "Oh yeah - Absolutely." Many years ago George was a combat photographer; CPL. GEORGE MATLIN. "I haven't talked about it for years,

you know?" he said before looking at the camera, a box of old negatives in his lap. "Everyone called me crazy..." he smiled before pawing through the box. "But I have the negative." Someone turned on the darkroom's red safety light for an eerie, dramatic effect.

"Get ready, 3-2-1... Roll tape." The technician said.

"It all started back in ´44. I was a Corps photographer aboard an allied submarine, off the coast of Scotland. Classified mission. I was 21... We had an English civilian and a woman on board. Not much older than me but already advisors to President Roosevelt. "Paranormal" advisors, I kid you not –" The man said to his interview as he remembered.

* * *

><p>I sat with my friend in a small room trying to be comfortable. My friend was an incongruously proper young Englishman "reading" an ancient set of Tarot cards while I sat across from him, watching him.<p>

* * *

><p>"Her name was Rose and his name was Trevor. Profesor Trevor –"<p>

* * *

><p>"- Broom! You two topside, now." Whitman called out to us. Trevor was a gaunt, olive-skinned man in his late twenties and I appeared to be in my early to mid-twenties, my dark hair pulled up in a bun and my light blue eyes watching my friend. In Trever's hands was a tarot deck he'd been reading for a while. He turned the cards face up one by one.<p>

THE FOOL

THE MOON

"The sooner we're done, the better." Whitman said. Trever grabbed his word-down wooden box full of book and amulets. It had a leather strap that allowed him to carry it much like a carpenter's tool box.

"This is an important mission, Sgt. Whitman. I hope you realize that." Trever told him.

"Oh - you don't wanna know what I think. Topside, now." He ordered.

"Sgt. Whitman, if you don't want us to know what you think then think quietly." Rose told him. He gave her a look and moved away from them. Trever held his cards in his hand before looking down at them nervously. He tensely turned the last card and looked to his oldest friend.

**THE DEVIL**

We gave each other a small look before continuing on our way.

* * *

><p>OCTOBER 9, 1944, SCOTLAND.<p>

It was raining like hell now. Soldiers moved through a short tunnel carved into the mountain. Once on the other side of the tunnel Whitman signaled his men to spread out before coming alongside Trever and Rose.

"Sgt. Whitman! Sgt. Whitman! May we have a word?" Trever asked him.

"What is it?" Whitman asked him impatiently.

"In private, if you don't mind..." he asked him once more. We all went to a small remains of a small chapel where Trever produced a small box full of rosaries. "Your men - They'll need these –" Whitman scowled and huffed at him.

"You are two Catholics?" he asked us.

"I'm not." I answered.

"Amongst other things, yes – but that's hardly the point." Trever told him as he locked and loaded an automatic.

"Here. You'll need one of these." He said handing it to Trever.

"I abhor violence." Trever told him and I took the gun.

"It's a good thing you have me then." I told him and he just gave me a look.

"Sergeant Whitman, I hope you don't think me mad –" Trever told him.

"Three days too late for that one, "professor."" Whitman told him as he moved away from us. Trever just looked up to the wooden Christ before walking away. I looked up at him and noticed it had no eyes before I walked away to join the men. In a ditch, the young photographer hauled his tripod and gear with him as he joined the troops on the move. Trever and I followed behind before catching up with Whitman.

"You're wasting our time: There's nothing on this island but sheep and rocks." Whitman told us.

"Ruins. Not rocks. The remains of Trondham Abbey."

"You should have seen it before it became ruins." I told them and Whitman gave me a look before Trever continued what he had been saying.

"Built on an intersection of Ley Lines, the boundaries between our world and the other –" Trever tried telling him.

"What a load of crap. Hell, a week ago I hadn't even heard the word parabnormal –" Whitman told us.

"That because parabnormal isn't a word." I told him.

""Paranormal"" Trever corrected him before the man moved on. "But - you read the transmission."

"Half transmission. Nonsense – German ghost stories!" Whitman told us.

"I have seen ghosts, Whitman." Trever told him.

"Oh, I'll bet you have." Whitman said.

"He has and trust me, the stories are wrong." I said as we reached a slope. We peaked over to see lights ahead of us.

"Sweet Jesus." The photographer said. Completely drenched, we all looked down upon an impressive Romanesque ruin. Under worklights, dozens of Nazi soldiers swarmed among thick stone walls and archways.

"They must be here for the sheep." Trever told Whitman make me smirk at the man. We watched as German soldiers swiftly assembled a large steel machine. All the work was being monitored by a spindly Nazi in black leather, his face covered by an odd gas mask.

"The freak in the gas mask –" Whitman started saying when Trever spoke up.

"Karl Ruprecht Kroenen, one of the Reich's top Scientists. Head of the Thule Occult Society." Trever lowered the binoculars and passed them to Whitman. "If he's here, this is worse than we

thought."

"Air and sea backup. What's closest?" Whitman asked into his radio.

"Londonderry, sir. Forty minutes away." The radio man told him.

"We don't have forty minutes." Trever told Whitman as we watched Kroenen throw a switch on a machine and we watched dozens of gears responded. Steam pistons thrust copper rails upright, lifting two mighty metal rings, not unlike a gyroscope. I watched as the lights flooded an ancient sacristy lined with eroded stone saints. I saw a tall, gaunt man standing naked arms fully extended to a severe, ageless Aryan beauty who reverentially draped an embroidered robe over his bony shoulders. I watched as he handed her a small leather-bound book.

"Grigory Rasputin is here." I told them.

"How can you see that without binoculars?" Whitman asked me. I turned and looked at him, causing to stare at me in shock. My eyes had changed to their natural color. The iris was gold around the pupil before going red.

"I have my ways." I said before turning back to Rasputin and the woman. I watched as he dipped his fingers into a wooden bowl, and then wipe her tears away leaving behind a crimson smear. I watched as another German soldier wearing dark scarlet glasses and leather gloves walked up to them. "Rasputin just performed a ritual."

"Can you tell what it was?" Trever asked me.

"Not without hearing what they're saying." I told him. Rasputin walked toward the machine, its colossal steel and copper clockwork gleamed in the floodlights. The new man walked alongside Rasputin and the woman who held an umbrella to shield Rasputin from the pouring rain. I watched Kroenen open a polished oak box, but couldn't see what was inside. Rasputin extended his hand and Kroenen fit a massive gold and copper mecha-glove before attaching it to cables and hoses. "Forty minutes is definitely too long. We need to move now!" I told them. The Americans fanned out around them unseen by the German's. Whitman, Trever and I moved from our position and dove into a ditch barely in time to avoid a German foot patrol. I watched as GI's took up positions below a machine gun nest. I watched as Rasputin walked to the top of the altar, cables tailing behind him.

"Tonight, We will open a portal and awaken the OGDRU JAHAD: The seven Gods of chaos." We heard Rasputin say. "Our enemies will be destroyed. In an instant, all impurity in this world will be razed and from the ashes a new eden will arise." He looked down at the machine. "Ragnarok, Anung Ia Anung." He whispered. He flexed his fingers and in response the two metal rings swung around the machine's central axis. Steam escaped from the ducts and pipes as an invisible blast of energy forced the falling rain to swerve momentariy away from Rasputin's body. The woman signaled two Nazi scientists standing at a control panel.

"More Power! Don't let the level drop!" she called to him. One of them inserted a 20 inch solid gold cylinder into the machine. Suddenly a blade of light opened in the air and burning symbols slashed the air like living serpents of fire.

"What the hell was that?" I watched and saw on the edges of the cosmic slit with color to see an alien galaxy sparkling on the other side. Suddenly, a work light tore loose and flew into it. We watched as Rasputin's body rose in the air and veins swelled in his neck, his face distorted by ecstasy and pain. Suddenly we heard a photo being taken and Whitman pulled the photographer down and pulled out a large bayonet blade.

"Listen to me, you moron: you do that again, I'll carve you a new –" Whitman started asking.

"Listen to me! The portal is open! We have to stop them!" Trever told him. Whitman took out a grenade and threw it towards the Nazi's. We all ducked before the explosion and a few seconds after the squad of Allies and I stormed into the area. A hail of bullets cut down dozens of Nazis. We overrun the machine gun nest as grenades exploded around us. TCHKKK! I turned in time to see Kroenen extended two gleaming blades from twin steel bands on his wrists and took on an entire group of soldiers, mowing through them with swords spinning like deadly rotors. I saw Trever pull a pin out of a grenade and threw it at the generator I was close to.

"Move!" I shouted at the Americans, pushing a few out of the way of the explosion before getting out of the way myself. We all found cover just as it exploded behind us. In front of me was a stone wall that Kroenen slammed into before two long pieces of shrapnel pinned him like an insect.

"Grigory!" I turned in time to see Rasputin's face distorted, pulled like ectoplasmic taffy. He body was contorting and breaking in multiple places as the cosmic portal suddenly imploded. Nothing was left in the area but a few burnt rails and the metal glove, empty and smoking. I got out from behind my cover to see the woman gone. I sighed and turned to the stone wall to see Kroenen gone, nothing except the two bloody rails embedded into the wall where he had been pinned. I fought my way to Trever as he was being helped up by the photographer.

"It's almost over!" the man said happily.

"No. It's not." Trever said before picking up a sample of white, viscous goo from one of the outer rings of the smoking machine as Whitman approached us. "Cordon off the area. Something came through."

"From where?!" Whitman asked us. Trever glanced" Whitman asked us. Trever glanced at a 13th century Fresco depicting heaven and hell.

"Where do you think?" I asked him and he looked at the Fresco slightly scared. Still raining, the soldiers spread out using flashlight to scour through the rubble. Every one of them had a rosary hanging from their bayonets. The photographer, Whitman, Trever, and I moved into the inside of the chapel where I bandaged Trever's bleeding leg as the other two roamed over the debris.

"Do you believe in hell?" the photographer asked us.

"There is a place - a dark place where evil slumbers and awaits to return. From there it infects our dreams. Our thoughts. Grigory gave us a glance tonight –" Trever told him.

"Grigory - That's Russian, right?" the photographer asked and Trever nodded. "Thought they were on our side..."

"Grigory Yefimovich Rasputin –" I said.

"C'mon - Rasputin?" he asked me.

"Spiritual advisor to the Romanovs. In 1916, at a dinner in his honor, he was poisoned, shot, stabbed, clubbed, drowned and castrated."

"That makes him more than a hundred –" the photographer said in surprise.

"That's young." I told him before a rustling sound reached our ears. The photographer readied his handgun as Trever scanned the walls with his flashlight. We saw something move accompanied by a loud scrape. The photographer cocked his pistol and nervously approached a crumbling statue. Something screeched and a red creature jumped into the air which instinctively he shot at it. We watched as the red creature leapt from arch to arch, followed by a trail of bullet hits as Whitman and the other soldiers joined us.

"What the hell was that? An ape?" he asked us.

"No. It was red. Bright red." Trever told him.

"What are you two talking about?" Whitman asked him.

"A red ape." The photographer told him.

"It's-not-an-ape –" Trever told him again. We heard the labored breathing of a living creature.

"It's got a big stone - in its hand –" the photographer said.

"I think that is its hand." Trever told them.

"It is." I said staring at the creature who was hissing at us as it cowered between a gargoyle and a stone saint. Whitman pointed his gun at the scarlet shape above us and I quickly slapped it out of his hand.

"Wait –" Trever said as another soldier prepared to fire. I turned back to the creature as it observed us with bright, golden eyes veined with streaks of burnt sienna. Trever slowly fished a Baby Ruth candy bar from his pocket and peeled back the wrapper before slowly waving the candy. The red things shrank back from him as I moved closer to him. Trever bit into the candy and chewed noisily smacking his lips to draw the creature to him. He offered the candy again and this time a small face, not very different from the stone demons around it causing me to smile.

"It's a child." I said as the creature extended its right arm. The arm was solid stone with tiny runes engraved around the thick, cylindrical wrist. Four articulated stone fingers wiggled at us, reaching for the chocolate.

"Jesus! would'ya look at the size of that whammer!" a young soldier said. Trever moved closer to him, drawing the child towards him. I handed Trever a blanket as the chile climbed into Trever's blanketed arms. Trever and I covered it with a blanket. Its stubby fingers snatched the candy from Trever making me laugh.

"It's a boy. Just a baby boy." Trever told them. The soldiers clustered around us, curious to see the child in Trever's arm. The photographer moved us all where he wanted to as he prepared his camera and directed us into a group shot. Trever and I stood on both sides of the child smiling like proud new parents at him. I took him from Trever and held him in my arms with a loving smile on my face as he took the picture.

* * *

><p>"Best photo of my career and no one has ever seen it. They keep saying he's not real, but I want to set the record straight before I go." George told the interviewer before he finally pulled out an old 8x10 from a battered portfolio and smiled at it, full of memories. "Here. The real picture, not the retouched one in LIFE magazine." He said handing over the old group photo. "This is him. The very same night we found him. The night Broom and Rose gave him that name. Can I say it on TV? He called him –"<p>

* * *

><p>"<strong>HELLBOY." <strong>Trever said and I smiled in agreement. Inside the blanket, Hellboy blinked his bright golden eyes and chewed the candy he'd taken from Trever, his devilish red tail twitching happily.

"It's perfect."


	2. The BPRD

Present Day

I was looking through a folder that had been handed to me earlier in the day. I flipped through it to see tabloid covers and news clippings screaming about sighting of Hellboy all over the world. The TV was on and that seemed to be the running theme for today. Springer excerpts were being aired (fist fights included) featuring the show's theme for the day: I WAS HELLBOY'S BRIDE! I changed the channel and looked back down at the folder to see more blurry, grainy, pictures depicting Hellboy crossing an alley, much like Bigfoot in the woods.

"Look at that. That's a costume. These people amaze me." I looked back up at the screen to see Manning, a balding official looking man in a suit. "With their conveniently blurry footage of their beloved "Hellboy." And they claim that he works for the FBI-?"

"As the head of your division, you - You have seen dozens of pictures like this!" the host said to Manning.

"Exactly." Manning said and I rolled my eyes. If he ever got any pictures of Hellboy he sent them to me. "So, why is it that they're all out of focus? C'mon! God knows, people manage to get good pictures at a wedding!" he showed one of the blurry photos of Hellboy. "That's the alleged best man - ?" the audience applauded his words. I shut off the TV and got out of my seat to go pick up Trever at the Doctor's office.

* * *

><p>When I got to his room, Trever was slowly buttoning his shirt with his rosary hanging from his wrist as it always was.<p>

"How did the tests go?" I asked him.

"They haven't told me yet." He told me and I gave him a gentle, sad smile.

"Do you want me to stay?" I asked him.

"Yes." He said and I nodded. The Doctor then walked into the room and we stared at him.

"Who are you?" he asked me.

"She's my oldest friend. You can tell me in front of her." Trever told him and he gave me a curious look before nodding.

"Malignant sarcoma. In the lungs, the spine, liver..." he listed off and I took a deep breath.

"Approximately... how long?" Trever asked him.

"Maybe - six weeks." He offered and Trever impassively took I the information. "I can arrange for hospitalization, pain management. Make the time more bearable –" Trever pensively shuffled his tarot cards as he shook his head.

"I'd rather... stay home, you know. I'll be making arrangements for our son." Trever told the doctor.

"You can always get a second opinion." He reminded him. Trever looked down and took the first card off the deck.

DEATH

"That won't be necessary." Trever told him and we left the hospital. As we walked out of the building leaves stirred on the pavement. All the stores were decorated for Halloween and two kids dressed as skeletons ran in front of us carrying jack-o-lanterns. I linked one of my arms with his and we walked towards a waiting black Mercedes. Agent Lime opened the door for us and before we got in Trever bought a dozen Baby Ruth candy bars from a street vender. In an electronics store close to us a wall of TV's showed a red blurry shape. "Son..."

"He's just like any other person. Just wants to be seen by the world." I said and it went back to the show I'd been watching earlier.

"Mister Manning, what about the "Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense?" The FBI has been known to conceal –" the host asked about.

"That word - conceal –" Manning said, shaking his head.

"from the American public –" he host continued saying.

"Phil - Phil - hold your little green horses." Manning told him. "Let me tell you and the American public one thing - this "Bureau for - what was it?"

"Paranormal Research and –" The Host started.

"- Defense, right, well - I'm here to clear up this once and for all." Manning said before looking at he camera. "There-is-no-such-thing." Trever and I smiled at the interview before heading to the car and going home.

* * *

><p>"Rose." Some called on the walkie I was carrying.<p>

"What is it?" I asked.

"He's here." The man called and I walked up to the main entrance. I looked at the cameras to see a dolled-up mod-styled moped at the massive gate. Strapped to the luggage rack were two cheap suitcases. The driver, a very wet young man, touched the old fashioned buzzer under the sign reading "WASTE MANAGEMENT". The guard looked at me and I nodded to him.

"Yes?" he said.

"John Myers, F.B.I. Transfer from Quantico." He called to us. The guard initiated the security protocols and an eyepiece and an LCD screen scanner popped out.

"Look at the birdie, son." Myers looked into the eyepiece and on the screen on our side Myers' cornea was scanned in two violet flashes. His ID and badge numbers appeared and we opened the gates for him.

When he walked in the solitary guard that sat behind the circular desk just stared at him as I stood in the middle of the room, watching Myers.

"Hello, I'm –" he tried introducing himself but I cut him off.

"- Late. Five minutes late." I told him.

"Yes, I –" he tried explaining but I cut him off again.

"It doesn't matter." I told him before turning to the guard. "Section fifty-one. Step back." I told Myers moving to the right place.

"Pardon?" Myers asked me following me with his eyes.

"Stand next to me please." I said and I could see the confusion on his face before he complied. We stood dead center on a giant B.P.R.D. Logo: A hand holding a sword.

"Watch your hands and elbows." The guard told Myers before activating the elevator under our feet. The panel overhead slid shut and a row of safety lights came on.

"Where are we?" he asked me looking around the vast underground area with other elevators moving up and down in the distance.

"Welcome to the B.P.R.D." I said as the elevator stopped in a narrow, dark space. Neon light flickered on, illuminating a circular chamber with a large 51 painted on the floor. In front of us was a magnificent oak door that I opened and just walked right in with Myers behind me. I sat in one of the chairs and watched as Myers looked around, fascinated at all the books. The soft glow of green-shaded reading lamps bathed everything in an intimate, warm light. One entire wall was a thick pane of glass, the wall of a huge tank of water.

"Turn the pages, please." I smiled at the voice that crackled from the intercom next to the tank. Myers turned towards the tank and moved closer to it before jumping back at the blue hand that slammed on the glass. "Over here... if you don't mind?" Abe, a fish-man, asked gliding into and out of view.

"Jesus Christ!" Myers shouted turning to me before looking back at the tank. Myers looked at four book stands facing the glass. Each supported a constant open volume. He leaned closer to the glass, peering intently. Abe swan back into view and I watched as Myers seemed to study his slender, dolphin gray body. On him were dark patterns streaking his skin and bright blue eyes shone with intelligence. Behind his thin wound-like mouth, gills bubbled for air. "These - ? You're reading these - ?" Myers asked Abe who nodded in confirmation.

"Four books at once. Every day - as long as I'm here to turn the pages." Trever said walking up to me smiling. "My name's Broom. Professor Trevor Broom. I see you've met Rose." Myers extended his hand in greeting to Trever.

"Sir, I'm –" Abe pressed his webbed hand against the glass, stopping Myers from talking and closed all three eyelids.

Agent John T. Myers, Kansas City, 76. "T" stands for Thaddeus, mother's older brother. Scar on your chin happened when you were ten, you still wonder if it's ever going to fade away." Abe said.

"How did it –" Myers started asking when I stopped him.

"He." I corrected and he looked at me confused. "He. Not "it.""

"Abraham Sapien. Discovered alive in a secret chamber at St. Trinian's Foundling Hospital, Washington." Trever told him pointing at a small piece of antique paper framed on the wall. They took his name from this little inscription that was stuck on his tank."

"Icthyo Sapiens, April 14, 1865." Myers read.

"The day Abraham Lincoln died. Hence "Abe" Sapien." Trever told him before moving to a tray by the tank. He uncovered it to reveal four greenish eggs making Myers gag and reel back. "Rotten eggs, a delicacy. Abe loves them." Abe smiled and took a subaquatic bow, gracefully nabbing the eggs as they floated through the hatch.

"How does he know so much about me?" Myers asked us.

"Abe possesses a unique frontal lobe." Trever told him as he started flipping the pages in the books. ""Unique." That's a word you'll hear quite a bit around here."

"Where am I - exactly, Sir?" Myers asked Trever.

"I told you." I said getting up and joining the men by the tank.

"As you entered the lobby there was an inscription –" Trever said.

"On the desk, yes. In Latin." Myers told us and I looked at him slightly impressed.

"Impressive. Do you remember what it said?" I asked him.

""In absentia luci, tenebrae vinciunt..."" Myers said.

""In the absence of light, darkness prevails." For there are things that go bump in the night, Agent Myers." Trever told him. "We are the ones who bump back." We all walked out of the room and down a corridor lined with glass cases containing occult artifacts. "1937: Hitler joins "The Thule Society" - a group of German aristocrats obsessed with the occult." Trever told him before pointing to an ancient, broken lance. 1938: he acquires the Spear of Longinus, which pierced the body of Christ. He who holds it becomes invincible. Hitler's power increases tenfold." Trever said as we walked through a series of pneumatic doors. In 1943, President Roosevelt decides to fight back. The Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense is born." We passed some workmen who were replacing some doors for us. The old ones had some dents from an oversized fist that deformed the 2-inch thick metal plates. "1958, the occult war finally ends when Adolf Hitler dies."

"1945, you mean." Myers told us making us both stop walking and turn to him. "Hitler died in '45."

"Did he, now?" Trever asked with a smile on his face.

"I remember it being 1958 when he died." I said making him look at me confused.

"But how could you remember that? You don't look older than 20 years old." He told me and I smiled.

"Unique is a very good term for most of our little team." I said before we started walking again. We reached the final door which was stainless steel, like a bank vault door. Agent Clay, a burly guy in a suit, was standing next to it with a cartful of beef and mashed potatoes at least four feet high.

"Agent Myers, this is Agent Clay. Follow his lead." Trever told him before he handed Myers two of the Baby Ruth bars we'd bought earlier in the day and turned to walk away from us.

"You're not coming?" Myers asked him.

"I hand-picked you from a roster of over seventy academy graduates. Make me proud." Trever said leaving the three of us alone again.

"They're not speaking." I told him and he looked at us confused.

"Professor Broom had him grounded." Clay explained.

"Grounded? Who's grounded?" Myers asked us and I smiled at Clay.

"Okay. You saw the fish man, right?" Clay asked and Myers nodded. "Well, come on in and meet the rest of the family." Clay used the triangular shaped key to unlock the door and we watched as three solenoid locks turned and two steel vertical pistons opened up. Clay pushed the cart into a solid concrete bunker, windowless, austere except for a few Samurai suits of armor and weapons. Dozens of cats wandered around while others were curled up on the furniture. There were Zippo's everywhere, from every era and on a sofa that was made from the bed of a pickup truck was a heap of blankets and comic books. All in all, a mega bachelor pad. "He gets fed six times a day. He's got a thing for cats. You'll be his nanny, his keeper, his best friend. He never goes out unsupervised –"

"Who?!" Myers asked him looking at the two of us confused. I stared at one of the comic books in the room: HELLBOY, THE UNCANNY. Myers picked it up and looked at the cover. It showed Hellboy - in a U.S. Uniform, fighting a monstrous ape. Myers put the comic book down and stared straight ahead of him to see a bright red tail wave in and out of a pool of light about ten feet away from him. I walked and picked up the cat who was playfully pawing at his tail. "You're kidding –"

"Those comics - They never got the eyes right." Hellboy told him. His voice is a deep baritone, chesty and powerful.

"How are you doing?" I asked him and he nodded at me.

"Oh, Jesus! Hellboy - ? Is real –" Myers asked Clay and I rolled my eyes.

"We got a new guy." I told him and he just smirked.

"Yup. Sixty years old by our count. But he doesn't age like we do - think dog years: He's barely out of his teens." Clay told Myers and I rolled my eyes, putting the cat down.

"Yeah, he makes sure we remember it." I said and Myers gasp, seeing Hellboy's monumental figure in the shadows, exercising with a 300 lb. Stainless steel dumbbell. Crimson biceps like cooked hams chomping an unlit cigar stub.

"What's with the hair, Clay? Finally got those implants?" Red asked Clay who blushed and hid his scalp.

"It'll fill in. Where do you want your dinner, Red? By the couch?" Clay asked him. On a nearby pile of junked TV sets, a loop of Fleischer cartoons and home movies cycled endlessly. On some one subject appeared over and over, an attractive young woman with a pale face and long raven-black hair.

"Who's the squirt?" Red asked.

"This is Agent Myers. He's your new liaison." I told him.

"Got tired of me Clay?" Red asked him.

"Nah. I'll be around, Red, just back in the field." Clay told him. Red dropped the dumbbell and Myers jumped at the sound.

"I don't want him." He told me.

"Manning says Clay's too soft on you and you need someone who'll inforce the rules on you." I told him. "Trever chose Myers specifically." He looked at me and sighed slightly.

"Oh. Uh. Hello. I - I have these. For you." Myers said holding the candy out to him.

"Father's back?" Red asked me and I nodded. "Still angry?"

"You did break out again." I reminded him.

"I wanted to see her, mother." He told me. "It's nobody's business." I gave him a look and he looked away from me ashamed of his words.

"You got yourself on TV again. Manning is breathing down our asses to control you better. One more slip up and he'll come here himself and I don't feel like looking at him.

""Myers", huh? You have a first name?" Red as Myers after a moment.

"Give him a chance." I whispered to Red.

"Uh-oh - John." Myers said. Red hadn't fully entered the light so Myers hadn't really seen his face yet, just from his shoulders down. "His what?!" Red finally went into the light and Myers stared for a moment as his chiseled features, patterned red skin and deep-set golden eyes before recoiling. On his head were two stumps where horns would have been had Red not filed them down everyday.

"Whatcha looking at, John?" Red asked him.

"Oh-n-no - I –" An alarm sounded and I smiled as a red light blinked on the wall making Myers look around bewildered.

"Hey, hey, hey. They're playing our song." Red told us before the two of us left the room.

"We're on the move." Clay said before Red clapped his smaller arm on Myers' shoulder.

"C'mon, Champ! Happy Halloween! You're taking me for a walk!"


	3. Sammael

Red, Blue and I were in the back of our transport which looked like a garbage truck to the outside world but on the inside it was a fully-equipped crime lab, crammed with hi-tech gear and low-tech talisman. There was a small shielded off area for me to change into my black outfit. The black pants clung to my legs but also allowed free movement, my black tank was made of the same material as my pants a black belt held everything I'd need; my guns, my locator a few knives and my sword was sheathed down my spine. Abe was fitting a respirator over his face as I stepped out of my little corner. His respirator looked like a mechanized Elizabethan collar with valves bubbling and hissing as he inhaled liquid through his mouth and out his gills.

"Look at them ugly suckers. One sheet of glass between them and us." Red said.

"Story of my life." Blue reminded him.

"I break it, they see us, Happy Halloween. No more hiding." Red said.

"No." I said and he turned to me almost pleading. "I'm not going to fill out all that damn paperwork just for you to have your 15 minutes of fame."

"Outside. I could be outside –" Red said getting nostalgic.

"You mean, outside... with her." Abe corrected him as Red strapped on a huge utility belt heavy with amulets, rosaries and horseshoes. From an ashtray he grabbed a handful of stogie stubs and lit one before putting the rest in a pouch.

"Don't get psychic with me." Red told him.

"Nothing psychic about it. You're easy." Blue told him and I smiled as Red unlocked a steel box and extracted the meanest-looking, custom-built, double-barrel, blue-finished, handgun ever made. The Good Samaritan was a veritable cannon.

"How am I ever gonna get a girl? I drive around in a garbage truck." Red groaned.

"Liz left us, Red. Take the hint." Blue reminded him.

"We don't take hints." Red said hefting the gun up.

"No." I agreed putting my coat on (Think Selene from Underworld). "We deliver them." We felt the truck backing and prepared to get out as the back of the truck lowered like a drawbridge in front of us.

"Okay, boys and girls, let's synch up our locators." Clay said and the humans turned on their locators which turned on a very light blue, Blue's was a very bright blue, Red's was a bright red and mine was a luminescent white. "Seal the doors. Red, Blue and White are coming in." We then started walking to the main lobby. "At nineteen hundred hours an alarm tripped. B&E. Robbery. Six guards dead –"

"Hold on - hold on - I thought we checked this place. Fakes, and reproductions." Red said.

"We did." I confirmed.

"Apparently not everything was fake." We turned to see Trever standing at the base of a marble staircase.

"Father...?" Red asked surprised to see him. I placed my hand on Red's arm as he sheepishly averted his gaze from his father. We turned and approached an oversized set of brass doors. Blue removed a leather glove from his hand and placed it on the door spreading his webbed fingers. He closed his three eyelids and concentrated as two agents came in with a rolling munitions case. Red opened it and looked over a potpourri of bullets of all colors and shapes.

"A 16th century statue was destroyed. Saint Dionysius the Aeropagite." Trever told us.

"Who wards off demons." Red said and Trever nodded.

"Smuggled into this country by an overzealous curator. The statue, however, was hollow –" Trever told him and I looked at him slightly confused.

"Reliquary?" Red asked him and Trever shook his head with a small smile on his face.

"A prison." He revealed. "The Vatican deemed its contents dangerous enough to include it on the List of Avignon. Of which we hold a copy."

"Then we should start checking places more often. Make sure that we're covering all new acquisitions as well as keeping track of the old." I suggested as Red selected a clip full of bullets and a speed loader.

"Would'ya look at this babies? Made 'em myself. Holy water, silver shavings, white oak: the works." Red told Myers as Blue pulled his hand away from the door.

"Behind this door. A dark entity - Evil, ancient and hungry." He told us before moving to another steel case more agents had brought in and started scanning a few of the leather-bound volumes of ancient magic.

"Oh, well. Lemme go in and say "hi"." Red said before opening the big doors and walking inside with us closing the doors behind him.

"I love how we get all suited up and don't get to fight." I sighed to Blue before looking something things over in the lobby.

"Blue: It stinks in here - Finely aged roadkill." Red said over the comms.

"Nummy." I said sarcastically.

"We're gonna definitely need more info on this one Brother Blue." Red told him.

"Hey, no one goes with him?" Myers asked. "Jesus."

"Mm, no. He likes it that way." Blue told him. "The whole lonely hero thing."

"He's been like that since he was a kid. Running around base fighting invisible monsters." I sad smiling at the memory.

"So, are you two…" Myers said looking between Trever and I.

"Are we what?" I asked him.

"Are you two married or something?" he finally asked.

"More like or something." I told him. "I've only ever loved one man my entire life. If you're lucky you won't meet him." I said.

"Why?" he asked me.

"Because he'd kill you." I said smiling at him.

"Red, I found something –" Blue said. I moved next to him to see him looking at a small, medieval engraving of a creature. "There's not much here: the entity's name is Sammael, the desolate one, son of Nergal –"

"Hold it –" Red told him before he turned his radio off for a short time before turning it back on.

"Red - you need to hear the rest of the information –" Blue told him.

"Nah - he's taken care of." Red said.

"No, listen this: Sammael, the desolate one, lord of the shadows, son of Nergal, hound of resurrection –" Abe red.

"See? I don't like that –" Red said.

"- Hound of resurrection?" Blue asked him before he continued reading. "Harbinger of pestilence, seed of destruction –"

"Skip to the end, willya? How do I kill it?" Red asked.

"It doesn't say." Blue told him. Suddenly the doors bulged and cracked under something being thrown into them causing everyone to backpedal fast. The Agents around us immediately prepared for something to come through the door except Myers who started looking for another way in.

"You chose well Trever." I told him as we watched him. After we were sure Red and Sammael were out of the room we moved inside so we could look around and a few hours later Myers came back and informed us that Red had gone off the grid. A short time later, Manning joined us and he, Trever and I walked through the mess as a crew was cleaning. and Broom walk through the mess.

"Every time the media get a look at him, they come to me. I'm running out of lies, Trevor." Manning told him.

"I thought you liked being on TV." Trever said.

"I do." Manning said before pausing a beat. "How many escapes? This year alone: five!"

"Tom – he, like Rose and the others, are our guest, not a prisoner." Trever told him and I rolled my eyes. We were here first but I wasn't about to remind Manning of that, not yet.

"Your "guest" happens to be six foot five, bright red, and is government funded." Manning said referring to Red.

"He's just going through a phase." Trever told Manning as the younger man moistened and lit a fine cigar using a kitchen match unlike Red who used a Zippo.

"A "phase"? What do you think this is, "The Brady Bunch?" These... freaks –a" Manning paused in his words and looked to Blue who was pacing the exhibition hall, palm open and listening to every word we'd said. "These freaks, Trevor, they give me the creeps. And I'm not the only one. You're up for review. You and your petting zoo."

"As speaker for the petting zoo I take offense to that." I said with a smile on my face.

"I know where to find him. I'll get him back." Trever told him as Manning watched Blue stare at a sharp dagger embedded in the floor.

"Hey, fishstick - don't touch anything." Manning told him.

"I need to touch it to "see"." Blue told him.

"See what?" he asked.

"The past, the future, whatever this object holds." Blue explained.

"Is he serious?" Manning asked us.

"Of course he is." I answered.

"Don't worry about fingerprints. I never had any." Blue told him before holding the dagger in his are hand. He saw something and quickly turned his head to us. "They were over here, Professor, Rose."

"Oooh! Who was here? Nixon? Houdini? You mind sharing your mystic insights?" Manning asked as Trever and I made our way to Blue. I examined the dagger in his hands and saw a Ragnarok symbol crowning the hilt. The dragon and swastika adorning the hilt.

"Show us, Abe... show us." Trever said as he solemnly extended his hand as I did mine. As soon as Blue took them, the room morphed to hours earlier: the place is intact. A guard checked an alarm monitoring unit. We heard a ticking sound and he shone his light into a dark corner but no one was there. After the guard moved on, a spidery form emerged from the pool of shadows on the floor. The form stepped into the light to reveal Kroenen encased in shiny black latex from head to toe. On his chest was a close-fitting harness comprised of softly ticking gears. He approached a glass case which held an ancient wooden statue of an Eastern Orthodox Saint. He ran his hand over the glass keeping him from the statue and the red beams that set the alarm.

"Move." A women commanded. Korenen moved and the woman from all those years ago walked to the case and used the hammer she held to destroy it setting off the alarms. Kroenen pulled out a double-ended blade and spun it around like a giant bone saw, slicing across the statue. Their was no apparent damage until a diagonal line appeared and the top half fell. Kroenen reached for a small crank embedded in his chest and wound himself up as the woman reached into a hollow portion in the wooden statue and removed a large reliquary jar containing golden sand. Six guards hurried in and they pointed their flashlights and guns at the two intruders.

"You! Don't move! Hands up!" one of the guards called out. Kroenen then started shaking, as if in a seizure as he readied two twin blades. The guards fired and bullets tore into Kroenen's arm, spewing forth an explosion of dust. He turned to them as they continued to shoot at him. Kroenen maneuvered the steel, deflecting the bullets which ricocheted wildly and finally hit three of the guards and they fell silently to the floor. Kroenen moved to two other guards and dispatched them in a flurry of knives. The last guard rose his gun to the two.

"Don't –" he started to order but something was clearly stopping him. Suddenly his hand broke, twisted by an unseen force. The flesh on his neck pushed upwards, held by an invisible force before he started floating in midair. The blinking lights of the arriving police cars tinted the windows red and amber. They outlined a figure formerly submerged in shadows. Grigory. He gestured with both hands, as if holding an imaginary doll. His arm muscles twitched under his skin, shifting, changing, gaining strength. With a quick gesture Grigory twisted the lower and upper parts of the guard's body in opposite directions and with a wet crunch, the guard goes limp.

"Ready the welcome, my love." Grigory told the woman. She opened the reliquary jar and poured a circle of sand onto the floor. "Salt. Gathered from the tears of a thousand martyrs. Restraining the essence of Sammael, the hell hound, the seed of destruction." Grigory sliced the air with his open hand, creating fleeting glyphs and a small black flame danced on his open palm. He deposited it in mid-air, and the center of the circle. Then, the sand began to move, like liquid mercury. Lines fused into a pile. It melted and bubbled, growing and foaming. Bones were formed, tendons and ligaments joined together, growing into Sammael. Blue snapped us out of the vision and Trever stepped away, pale and wincing as he endured a bolt of pain in his side. Blue and I held him up and I motioned for the others to stay back. Blue extended his open palm and felt the air near Trever's back.

"Professor..? You - are very sick." Blue said.

"I don't want Hellboy to know." Trever told him as he gently turned and pushed our hands away. "Sixty years ago Abe, they tried to destroy the world. And they are back - in my lifetime, they are back. To finish the job."


End file.
